A Rose To Say Goodbye
by punkaddict13
Summary: Oneshot, RHr. I can't really say much, because it will give the ending away, so I'll just say: Ron has lost something he loves, and refuses to let go. Rated T because it deals with death


Ron and his car outside the primary school, waiting for the final bell to ring, and for his seven-year-old daughter to come running out to him. The school was new, modern, sharp angles and bright colours everywhere. It was nothing like his old school, Hog-

_No, _he reminded himself firmly. _Don't think. It will just bring back memories, and memories are what cause weakness. _The pain was so strong he couldn't even tell his daughter the truth about himself. What he and his mother were. She had no idea of the future she could have, and that was the way he wanted to keep it. Free from the memories, free from pain.

The dark clouds rumbled overhead in a dreary grey sky, threatening to let loose their load at any second. Ron pulled his jacket tighter, and turned up the heater in his car.

"Hermione, dear, is there an umbrella in the back? I might run inside with it and wait for Jane. This rain doesn't look like it's going to hold back for long."

Hermione sat staring through the windshield, her hands folded neatly in her lap, shoulders back, a determined look upon her face. She said nothing.

"Hermione?"

Nothing.

Ron sighed, ran his fingers through his red hair, and, after reaching into the back of the car, stepped out into the icy November wind. A few drops landed on his coat, foreshadowing the driving rain that was about to come.

Suddenly, there was something clinging around his waist. He looked down, and spotted his daughter, her uniform still as perfect as it was that morning when they left home. _That's one thing she gets from her mother_, he thought. He crouched down and gave her a hug.

"Honey, mummy's in the front, so you're going to have to sit in the back today, okay?"

Jane looked through the windshield and into the front seat. A look of disbelief came over her face, but it disappeared in an instant.

"Okay, Daddy," she said, and handed him her bag. He placed it in the boot and returned to the drivers seat.

"How was your day, honey?" Ron said, pulling out onto the street and looking into the rear view mirror at his daughter.

"It was heaps of fun! Mrs. Thomas told us we have an excursion to…" he let his daughter talk, allowing him to concentrate on the drive home. The rain started coming, the downpour set to last for an hour or so.

He placed a hand on Hermione's. Still, she didn't move. In the background, Jane suddenly stopped talking, and looked from her dad to the seat next to him, puzzled.

"Daddy, what are you doing?"

He looked in the rear view mirror again, and into his daughter's eyes. "I'm holding your mothers hand, Jane."

The look of disbelief came across her face again, slowly replaced by puzzlement. "Daddy, where's Mummy?" she asked.

"What do you mean, where is she? She's right here!" He smiled over at his wife. She sat, staring out the windshield, not moving. The smile left his face, and he sighed. It was going to be a long ride home.

Harry had come over for the evening. It had been a long time since the three of them had spent time together, and tonight seemed the perfect time to catch up.

The three sat in the sitting room, drinks in hand, playing cards, the rain still battling down outside. They talked about everything; work, their children, their old school friends. The lives that had been ripped apart by the war those long years ago, and how they and their friends were slowly rebuilding them.

Conversation soon got onto movies. There was a new one showing this weekend, one that Ron thought he would enjoy. He, Hermione and Jane were planning to go, and he asked if Harry would like to join them?

"Yeah, that sounds great. It's been a while since I've had some fun," Harry replied, his famous grin coming across his face.

Ron looked at his hand of cards, preparing his next move. He threw a card on the table, then asked Hermione, "You don't mind, do you dear?"

Hermione sat next to him, staring out the window directly opposite from her, her hands folded neatly in her lap, shoulders back, a determined look upon her face. She said nothing.

Harry looked at the window, the puzzled look that was begging to come onto his face skillfully covered.

Ron glanced up at Harry, waiting for him to take his turn, but he found Harry staring out the window. "Harry, what are you looking at?" Ron said, peering out the window to try and look.

"What? Oh…" he looked over at the empty chair next to Ron. "Oh, nothing."

Ron's attention turned back to Hermione, thinking about Harry. He hadn't been the same since she was killed, either. Never followed his conversations properly.

"Hermione?" Ron asked again. Still, Hermione sat, not speaking, staring out the window.

Ron sank back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. "Dear, would Harry and I be able to have a minute alone, please?"

Obediently, Hermione rose from her chair, back straight, staring straight ahead, and left the room. Ron's eyes followed Hermione out, then looked at Harry, and was surprised to see a look of strong concern upon his face.

"What?" he asked, not aware of what Harry was concerned about

"Mate, why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Talk…" he hesitated. "Talk to Hermione?"

"What do you mean, why do I talk to her? What do you want me to do, ignore her?" Ron said, chuckling.

"Mate, it's not healthy. You should have mov-"

"Why is it not healthy? She's my bloody wife, mate, I'm not going to ignore her!" The amusement had now given way to puzzlement, and anger. He rose violently, shaking the table. "Let me do what I want!" His ears began turning red.

Harry rose too. "Ron, it's not…" he struggled to find the right word. "… normal!"

"What do you mean it's not normal!" Ron said sharply, his face following his ears. "Why do you want me to-"

"Ron, she's dead!" Harry said piercingly.

A loud silence followed.

"What do you mean she's dead? You saw her sitting at the table just now, you spoke to her!" Ron said, his face paling, but ears staying red with anger.

"No, Ron, I didn't. She's dead. You went to her funeral a year ago. You wrote a verse for her headstone, you put flowers on her grave!" Harry's eyes started to glisten. "Don't you remember?" he said softly, the anger leaving him.

"I remember Lavender dying. I remember going to her funeral, and putting flowers on her grave. Hermione is alive, what is wrong with you?" Ron's hands started shaking, and he strode towards the door. He threw it open, and spat "Get out!" at Harry.

Harry looked at him, the tears threatening to spill. He walked towards Ron, and looked him in the eye.

"Ron, she's dead. She died with Lavender. You need to accept that, and move on." He put a friendly hand on Ron's shoulder, tears created by painful memories falling down his cheeks. "You need help, you need to be able to let go. Jane needs to know what she really is, you need to let her go to Hogwarts." Tears began to sparkle in Ron's eyes, but Harry was not finished. "You need to start talking to your school friends. They don't know why you suddenly turned against them. Ignoring our world isn't going to bring her back, mate. Why do-"

Ron cut in, his anger beyond turning point. "How _dare _you tell me what to do!" he yelled. "Get out! Get out!" He pushed Harry in the small of his back out the door and onto the garden path. He slammed the door in his face, and then leant against it, tears streaming down his face. Suddenly, Hermione appeared in front of him. She placed a hand on his cheek. He reached up to cover her hand with his, but there was nothing there.

"He's right, Ron. You need to let go," she said softly.

Ron stared. She hadn't spoken for a year, yet here she was, acting as though nothing has changed.

"Why are you doing this? This silent treatment? What have I done to deserve this?" he yelled at her. She did not waver; her expression was as calm as ever.

"Ron, let me go. I've been dead for a year now. Please, move on. If you don't, I can't either." Tears filled her eyes, and she turned sharply, and quickly left the room.

Ron wiped his tears away, and followed her. "Hermione?" he called into the kitchen. There was no one there. The plates from dinner were still left to be washed on the sink, but there was only two. He looked into the sitting room. Only two drinks sat on the table, only two hands of cards had been dealt. He ran upstairs to the bedrooms. No sign of Hermione – her clothes were gone, her shoes, her make-up. There was no trace of her perfume in the bathroom, and her hairbrush was gone from next to the sink. It was like she never existed.

Ron sank onto his bed and put his head in his hands. The tears started to come again, fresh and strong. "I love you, Hermione," he whispered, amidst the sobs that shook his body. He lay down, burying his face in his pillow, trying to muffle the cries.

Without warning, a light hand rested on his, and Hermione's voice whispered in his ear.

"I love you too, Ron. Please, as one last wish for your wife, let me go."

Ron looked up, but there was no Hermione to be seen. Knowing what he had to do, he rose, and Apparated into his back garden, next to the rose bush that he knew Hermione loved. The air smelt strongly of the rain that had past, and tiny water droplets glistened on everything, framing the plants like a diamond necklace does a woman's face. Ron gently plucked one from the bush, and placed it on the garden bench that overlooked the river.

"Goodbye, Hermione," he whispered, and let one last tear fall onto a rose petal, then slowly walked back to his bedroom.

When he awoke the next morning, the rose was gone.


End file.
